


Among the Hunted

by ashthefab



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, jimlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashthefab/pseuds/ashthefab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock gives up everything to be with the object of his obsession</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among the Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> My cousin convinced me to write a Sheriarty, so this is what happened. Hope you all enjoy. :)

“Jim.”

“Yes, darling?” Jim cooed in response, not pausing to look up from his laptop at which he was fervently typing.

“What exactly did you want with the security codes to that prison?”

In his hands, Sherlock clutched a newspaper.  The headline read, _National Trust Bank Hacked, Thousands Stolen_.  He stared at the other, waiting impatiently for an answer.

“No particular reason,” he hummed in response.  “I just needed them to complete a... task I’ve been meaning to get done.”

“To steal thousands of dollars for no reason, you mean,” Sherlock retorted.  He crossed the room and closed Jim’s laptop on top of his fingers, letting the newspaper drop unceremoniously on top of it.  “This was obviously you.  You got me involved in one of your pathetic crimes.”

Jim extracted his fingers from the laptop, rubbing them to regain feeling before picking up the newspaper and examining it.  He confirmed Sherlock’s accusation with a single nod and a smirk.

“Mycroft was right,” Sherlock scoffed, turning away from the thief on his sofa.  “I never should have gotten involved with someone like you.”

He strode over to the door, slipping on his trenchcoat and flipping up the collar.

“Where are you going?” Jim asked curiously.  “Not to kill someone, I hope.  You know it’s useless to solve a murder if it involves committing yourself to a lifetime of jail.”

“Like you would care about murder,” Sherlock snapped in response.  “I’m tired of you.  I don’t even know why I gave you a chance.  Get out of my flat, James.”

“Wait.”  Jim stood up, leaving the laptop on the sofa as he folded the newspaper in between his fingers.  “I have a reason for stealing the money.  I don’t do everything for fun; you know that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sherlock muttered, grabbing his scarf and winding it around his neck.  “I want you out by the time I come back.”

 

An hour passed, Sherlock angrily striding up and down the streets and trying desperately not to think about Jim.  His fingers trailing across his skin.  His breath on his neck at night.  His smug smile and brown eyes sparkling with mischief.  But he was done with that.  Too many times did it feel like he had been used, too many times had one or the other left for days only to return to a furious partner.  He could feel his heart tightening with the thought of pushing James Moriarty out of his life, but shook his head, resolve hardening.  It had to be done.  Mycroft would never forgive him if he found out about his relationship with the criminal, and goodness knows what mother and father would think.  It was enough to lose John to the pathetic desires of his heart, but he couldn’t stand losing his family.  And yet...  He bit his tongue, revelling in how the pain cleared his thoughts.  Entering the building, he bumped into Mrs. Hudson.

“Aah, Mrs. Hudson.  Tell me, has the man in my room left the premises yet?”

“Manners,” she scolded him.  “You could at least apologize for almost making me fall over.  And no.  Your boyfriend left for a short period of time, but he did come back about thirty minutes ago, I’d say.”

Sherlock frowned and made his way up the stairs and into his flat to see Jim sitting on the desk with a small bouquet of flowers.

“Surprise?” Jim asked, a small smile on his face.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I would rather prefer not to be kicked out.  I thought that was made obvious through the flowers,” Jim pouted.  “So please don’t leave me?”

Sherlock sighed, pursing his lips.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally told Jim.  “You’ve made my life difficult in many more ways than one.  I don’t-”

Sherlock stopped, unable to get the words out.   _He still wanted him here.  He would be lying if he completed the sentence._

“Marry me.”

That jolted Sherlock out of his painful drifting, and his eyes met Jim’s.

“What?”

“I think you heard me,” Jim chastised him.  “You just need to give me your answer.”

Marry him.  He wanted to.  He wanted to be with Jim more than anything.   _He had given up more than he wished to for Jim, yet he found he didn’t care.  He only cared about the man across from him._

“Well?  What do you say, darling?” Jim cooed.

_This had crossed into obsession, Sherlock dimly noted.  It was more than a childish crush now.  He couldn’t leave the other man alone._

“Yes, of course,” he found himself saying.  “We’ll go to the courthouse tonight.  Mycroft will not be pleased in the least, though.”

A wry smile twisted on his face.  Once he was married to Jim, he would no longer be a hunter.   _He would be among the hunted._

“To love.”

Jim drew out the words, a smirk on his mouth as he leaned into Sherlock, settling his arms around the taller man’s shoulders and letting their lips fall together.  He finally had Sherlock.   _He had won._


End file.
